Seaweed Brain
by A Voice in the Desert
Summary: "I particularly liked the part where you compared me to Mrs. O'Leary." Oh. That. Definitely not my best line.  This is the story of how I, Percy Jackson, manage to yet again humiliate myself on a date with Annabeth Chase.  Post-LO. Percabeth.


**Seaweed Brain**

by: Toph's Hammer

To be honest, I'm not really sure what possessed me. It was a moment of weakness…kind of like when Grover sees a vintage Coke can and decides he just has to have it.

You see, I've been dating Annabeth Chase since the end of last summer and even though she lives in New York now, this silly thing called school always seems to get in the way. Well I've wanted to take her to this new restaurant, the Mariner's Cove, since it opened two months ago but I couldn't seem to figure out how to ask her…and therein lies my problem.

Now I know what you're thinking…she's your girlfriend, just _ask_ her…but I wanted to do more than send a simple Iris message this time. In hindsight, that would've been far less painful.

But since I was a masochist (big word, I know…Annabeth taught me it), here I was, sitting at the kitchen table in my mom's apartment, pen in hand, trying to write.

I know what you're thinking…Percy Jackson? Write? What does he think he is, a muse? Well, let me assure you that I'm most certainly not, and if anything, I'll spare you my first couple drafts. (I think even Apollo cringed at the one that started _Dearest Annabeth, your eyes are the hippocampi of my soul_) In fact, I wouldn't even submit Hades to that torture…I know I'll be having nightmares for weeks.

Honestly, girlfriends are such bad influences…

* * *

So against my better judgment, I had mailed the previously described letter to Annabeth three weeks ago and even gotten permission from my mom to be out past my eleven o'clock curfew (she'd just smiled knowingly and winked—ugh). Now all that was left was for Annabeth herself to show up.

The restaurant I had picked was unique, the architecture and the setting were stunning, and our table couldn't have been better—I knew she would love it. Apparently the owner of the Mariner's Cove had decided to build New York's first (and probably last) semi-floating restaurant. Now I'm sure you're thinking the exact same thing I was when I first read the description…namely, how can a restaurant be semi-floating? Well let me tell you.

Half the building is your typical hardwood floor and white table cloth set up, complete with ocean-themed décor (though to be completely honest, the fish tanks kind of bothered me—it seemed like the fish had this uncanny habit of all staring at me when I walked by). The remaining half of the building was offset by a low wall and built out over the ocean. Likening itself to a dock or pier, the dining room floor was suspended above the waves, only two gently swaying walkways connecting it with the dry land. The occasional call of a seagull or spray of briny air completed the late summer night.

Now, if only Annabeth would get here…

I had made the reservation for 6:30 with the intention of going to grab a movie afterwards, but I wasn't quite sure if we were going to make that (a part of me hoped not). I glanced down at my watch. 6:28. Gods, I was paranoid.

The waitress suddenly appeared, breaking me from my revere as she set a glass of water before me. I could've sworn she tried to give me a coy smile and bat her eyes but in doing so she only seemed to accentuate her chipped front tooth and offset eyes. (hey, come on now, don't tell me you've never made judgments like that before…besides, I had Annabeth coming and she'd probably kill me for even thinking about that waitress the wrong way)

After a few awkward seconds, Ms. Toothy took the hint and huffed off and I was left to examine my fork (which, ironically, looked kind of like a trident). Just as I was beginning to wonder if my smile was indeed crooked or if that was just the curvature of the fork, a flash of blond caught my eye.

Annabeth.

Now I might be a bit biased, but I can honestly say that I thought she looked better than Aphrodite at that moment (just don't tell the goddess). She'd foregone her usual Yankees hat and Camp Half-blood t-shirt, opting instead to let her hair fall in gentle waves around her face and to wear a clean, white blouse. Her jeans hugged the sway of her hips and I saw that she still wore her camp necklace, complete with the bead from our last summer's defeat of Kronos.

She looked up and her stormy, gray eyes met mine. I swear I couldn't have smiled any wider.

She made her way slowly over, weaving between the tables and chairs, stopping every so often to look up at the ceiling or run a hand over one of the wooden railings as if to admire its lines. She was almost to our table and I half-rose to greet her when a voice called out and a hand shot forward to grab her wrist. Almost immediately she stopped, her eyes darkening.

The hand belonged to an older guy, maybe 18 or 19, who had probably just finished up his first year at a local university. He had light brown hair, a strong jaw, and a confident smile. I didn't like him.

Currently, however, he was being subjugated to one of Annabeth's patented death stares—one that could probably scare the shorts off a minotaur and should, if this creep had any sense, make him let go of _my_ girlfriend.

Incidentally, it didn't seem to be working and his smile only widened at what I had to assume was one of Annabeth's rather imaginative retorts. She tried to jerk her hand away, motioning toward my table, but Tall-Dark-and-Handsome held on.

While Annabeth could most certainly fight her own battles, I'm not the son of Poseidon for nothing. I rose slightly from my seat and with a slight twitch of my hand and a rather familiar pulling sensation in my stomach, I watched as Tall-Dark-and-Handsome's water glass mysteriously rose up and emptied its contents in his lap. What I failed to notice, however, was that twenty or so other glasses did the same thing across the restaurant, leaving a bunch of unhappy customers. Oops.

Anyways, I could've sworn I saw the corners of Annabeth's mouth twitch when she saw the glass move and there was a certain part of me that wished I could've heard what she said to Tall-Dark-and-Handsome after his cold shower.

Seeing that he had released her and that she was (finally) coming over to greet me, I stepped forward only to find a finger poking me in the chest.

"I could've handled him myself, Seaweed Brain."

I was a bit taken aback…I mean what's a guy supposed to do when someone starts hitting on his girlfriend? Just sit there and watch?

I opened my mouth to explain this to Annabeth when she kissed me. It was fierce, hard, and more possessive than usual. I began to grin as her lips moved against mine and as she drove the last conscious thought from my brain, I realized that perhaps I should send Tall-Dark-and-Handsome a thank-you note after this was over. (neither of us, however, heard the startled gasps of the few patrons who were suddenly splashed by a surprisingly high wave)

Finally we broke apart and I smiled rather giddily down at Annabeth.

"But thank you," she smiled, "it was very sweet."

Now I'd love to say that I came up with something equally eloquent, but my brain still wasn't quite functioning properly after that kiss, and what came out sounded more like,

"Uhhhh…" then _of course_.

Thankfully, Annabeth seemed used to my occasional struggles with the English language because she just gave me one last peck before taking a seat at the table.

"So how was your day?" Apparently, I could speak once again.

In all honesty though, my greeting sounded rather lame even to my ears…but then again, how was I supposed to top her welcome anyways?

She smiled. "It was fine. I mean this school year hasn't been too exciting, though I have to admit that I've probably been spending more time with Daedalus's laptop than actually doing homework."

"And I'm sure you still got all A's," I teased.

Her answering blush was all the confirmation I needed.

"But aside from that," she continued, "I talked with my dad and he says his job out in San Francisco is going well, though he told me to tell you that he'd much rather be flying planes than talking about them."

I laughed. A couple years ago Dr. Chase had helped save Annabeth and me by running interference with an old Sopwith Camel equipped with some celestial bronze bullets. Annabeth says he still talks about vaporizing those monsters to anyone who will listen.

"My step-mom still isn't sure about you though."

My head snapped up at her latest comment, and I nearly missed the mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yep. She keeps going on about how much trouble I seem to run into when I'm with you. Last time we talked she mentioned this boy down the street that she wants me to meet. I think his name was Carl."

I rolled my eyes. "She thinks _I_ get you into trouble? What if it's the other way around?"

Annabeth's eyes narrowed dangerously, "When have I ever gotten you into trouble? It's usually me that has to come save your sorry hide after you've gone and done something stupid."

She had a point and she knew it, but I wasn't ready to give up quite yet.

"Let's see," I held up a hand and started ticking off fingers, "there was Crusty's mattress shop, Circe's Island, Echidna and the Arch, the whole Labyrinth fiasco…"

"The Labyrinth fiasco!" Annabeth seemed particularly outraged at this comparison and I carefully hid my smile.

"Perseus Jackson…" _Uh-oh. Full name. Not good._ "…would you kindly explain how that was my fault?"

"Well…" I trailed off. I really didn't have a good answer to that. The Labyrinth was more of a series of unfortunate events than anything else.

But when I looked up my response died on my lips. In her hands was a simple piece of white paper, carefully folded into thirds.

She didn't.

She began slowly unfolding the paper, her smirk only growing when she saw my reaction.

"I must say," she remarked as casually as if she were discussing the weather, the Labyrinth suddenly forgotten, "I really enjoyed the last letter you sent me. It was so much better than an Iris message and the other girls at school really got a kick out of it."

I groaned, resisting the urge to put my head in my hands.

"Would you like to hear it?"

I suppose this was what I got for trying to tease her. Typical.

"Annabeth…maybe it could wait until later?" I tried not to sound too hopeful. She was putting me on…she had to be.

"Oh no," she shook her head, "I don't think it can." Her grin was positively wicked now, "and I particularly liked the part where you compared me to Mrs. O'Leary."

Oh. That. Definitely not my best line.

"Please…?" I was getting desperate now and certainly wasn't above begging.

"Now where was I? Hmmm…well I guess I'll just have to start at the beginning."

Great. She was ignoring me now, and I'm pretty sure half the restaurant was listening too.

"_Annabeth,_

_This school year has been far too long,_

_But I've come to know that you're rarely wrong._

_It hasn't been easy, it never is,_

_But I've missed you so much—and that's not Cupid._

_And while I often feel your wit,_

_Smarter and sharper than a trident,_

_You've been the best thing that's happened to me,_

_Not Tyson, not Grover…oh Gods, not even Mr. D._"

I looked up, hoping she might stop now and save me further humiliation. No such luck. Though I think I'm now able to sympathize with Artemis's pain of having Apollo for a brother.

"_You seem to understand me and my quirks,_

_Even when I myself don't know what lurks_

_Beneath my own stuttering and forgetful bluster._

_Your knowledge of art, books, and architecture,_

_Is enough to make anyone jealous,_

_No mistake did they make up on Olympus._

_So don't ever doubt, worry, or weep,_

_I'll always be there for you—your own Golden Fleece."_

At this point her eyes seemed to soften and she continued in a much quieter voice.

"_Too long did I wait, seeing your beauty,_

_Unmatched by sirens, nymphs, and of course, Mrs. O'Leary._

_Perhaps some of the fun is supposed to be in the Chase,_

_Pun intended, of course, not my mistake._

_I'd like to think that I could make it up to you,_

_Dinner? A date? Maybe a movie, too?_

_And so if you'll have me, swear on the Styx,_

_Three weeks from now you'll meet at the Mariner's Cove, half past six._

_Percy"_

After a few seconds, I braved looking up. Annabeth's eyes still hadn't left my silly poem, a soft smile on her lips as she silently mouthed the last few lines to herself. Suddenly she stood up.

"C'mere Percy Jackson."

She held out a hand and I took it, allowing her to lead me to the edge of the restaurant by the railing that overlooked the ocean. I pointedly ignored the knowing looks and irritated glares of the nearby patrons.

She turned to face me, her hands snaking up to play with the hair behind my neck.

"You know, that was quite possibly the silliest—"

I opened my mouth to protest.

"—and most romantic thing you have ever done for me."

Now I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the most romantic guy in the world and was more than a little apprehensive about sending a poem to my girlfriend, but I didn't expect such a frank admission from Annabeth. Those were usually reserved for my stupider moments.

Thankfully she smiled, "And I'm glad that you think I'm better looking than Mrs. O'Leary. Because if you didn't, I think I'd have to hurt you Seaweed Brain."

I started to laugh but was cut off once again by the feel of Annabeth's lips on mine. This kiss was different than the last one. It was soft and heartfelt, and I reveled in the press of her body against mine, for once not caring about the people around me.

We broke apart briefly and I smiled down at her, not stopping to wonder why the waves suddenly sounded louder in my ears, before I kissed her again. Soundly. Not wanting to leave anything to doubt. This was my girlfriend, complete with quirks and all, and I loved her for it (in the last conscious part of my brain I realized that I actually did love her…and should probably tell her that sometime soon).

After a few more minutes of gratuitous self-indulgence, we looked up, surprised to find the entire restaurant drenched in water, food and table clothes strewn everywhere. For some reason everyone was staring at us. Maybe it was because we were the only two dry people in the entire place.

I guess I lost control. Again.

The headline of the paper next day would read: _Rogue Wave Smashes Restaurant! Undersea Earthquake Suspected! _ I think Poseidon would have laughed.

"So, Seaweed Brain, what movie should we go see?" Annabeth asked as we slipped our way hand-in-hand through the aftermath, dinner quickly forgotten. We could grab something on the way.

I shrugged, "I don't know. I was thinking we could see this one about these blue aliens on a planet called Pandora. It looked interesting enough. Some action and cool special effects."

Annabeth threw her head back and laughed, before she laid it gently against my shoulder.

"What is it with you and the color blue? Blue shirts, blue bedspreads, blue birthday cakes…"

I looked down, mock-offended, "have you been talking to my mom?"

She smiled impishly up, "maybe…"

I groaned. "You know, I do like things that aren't blue."

"Oh yeah?" she challenged, stopping and turning to face me, "like what?"

I pretended to think for a moment before dropping another kiss on her lips, "You."

We never did make it to that movie….

* * *

**So what did you think? Love it? Hate it? Do I need to lay off the ambrosia? **

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